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A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. " "Fill your glasses, gentlemen," observed Ireton, "and I'll tell you a droll thing Jack said this morning. The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. "But bring your glim this way. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. I’m a desperate young woman.
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